


Getting To Know Adronitis

by myoongjoon



Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: AU, College AU, Fluff, M/M, and dongmin is kind of the comic relief, artist!MJ, basically just a lot of pining and a lot of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 19:02:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12174789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myoongjoon/pseuds/myoongjoon
Summary: adronitis - (n.) frustration with how long it takes to get to know someoneJinwoo had a million questions for the guy who showed up at the planetarium every week.





	Getting To Know Adronitis

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Makayla (snibnoom.tumblr.com) for supplying the title and proofreading for me (although I may have added and changed after she did, so there's probably still a few mistakes. whoops). The title is from The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows.

College was supposed to be the best years of his life, or at least that was what Jinwoo always assumed. He wasn’t well endowed with a hefty college fund or the motivation to warrant enough scholarships to pay his way. What he did have plenty of was laziness and a strong lack of determination, the both of which did little to propel him forward in the most crucial of times. It wasn’t that he didn’t care where he was going, he just didn’t have the energy or time to figure it out.

He worked at a small planetarium and theater combination on the top floor of the local mall. Even though he never sold the food, he perpetually smelled like popcorn and frappucinos. They hardly ever had a busy night, which made the amount of hours he worked seem even more ridiculous. The giant Cineplex one block away took most of their business, making them only good for 15-minute scientific videos produced by the college, and an occasional showing of some old classic. Nothing much happened besides hearing the squeaky carpet sweeper go by every few minutes. Jinwoo usually did his homework behind the counter, avoiding the watchful eye of his boss—a small, old man with a permanent glare and a sorry excuse for a mustache—who hardly tolerated any form of not doing your actual job (even if there was nobody there for you to make it possible to do your actual job).

The only thing even remotely interesting about Jinwoo’s life, the only thing that made him even two percent more likely to not zone out completely, was this guy who would show up every Sunday at the planetarium. He wore round glasses and his hands were almost always hidden inside the long sleeves of his large sweaters, gaining him the nickname ‘Sweater Guy’ among all of the mall’s top floor employees.

Each Sunday, Sweater Guy would show up mid morning and do the following: order tea from the coffee cart across from the ticket booth, sit at a table or bench and draw, then disappear into the planetarium, only to be seen again a week later. He had been showing up for almost a year, doing the same routine exactly. Nobody knew anything about Sweater Guy other than some obvious facts, like his seemingly endless collection of sweaters for which he was so aptly named. Jinwoo tended to eye him with a sort of fascination that was equal parts boredom and interest. Jinwoo liked to try and pick up on visual cues that would give him any type of insight to the stranger’s life. Did he look tired? Did he look happy? Did he seem to have important things to do? Jinwoo let the boy preoccupy his thoughts completely each time he saw him.

Even on days that weren’t Sunday, Jinwoo still found himself fixating his thoughts on Sweater Guy. He liked to make up facts and backstories about him. Maybe he was a swimming champion in high school and broke state records; maybe he was really into 18th century Swedish literature and studied interior design in his spare time; maybe he had a dark past and poured his soul into deep, vague poetry or maybe he had a ton of terrible tattoos he got when he was drunk and that’s why he had to wear sweaters with such long sleeves. His stories ranged from simple to outrageous and constantly flowed out of him like Sweater Guy was just some character that he projected onto his own life (and he may or may not have started drawing a small comic of Sweater Guy saving the world on a crumpled up napkin one day when he was bored out of his mind; he called it Sweater Guy Saves the World).

He liked to entertain the idea of having a conversation with Sweater Guy. Would his voice be loud and strident or low and breathy? Did he move his hands when he spoke? Did he have an accent? Would he have deep conversations or did he enjoy small talk? Jinwoo thought about it often and crafted many lists of things he was eager to know about the stranger. He wanted to know everything, from the order in which he prepared cereal to his views on existentialism. He wanted to know all this and more simply because he couldn’t, and of course because he was so goddamn bored at work. He didn’t have anything else to do except homework or cleaning the glass snack displays repeatedly until the entire corner of the building smelled like Windex.

Jinwoo only had two days off a week -- Wednesdays and Saturdays -- both of which he usually spent sleeping. His roommate, Dongmin, was usually busy with a host of different extracurriculars. Dongmin had student council and charity auctions and bake sales and theater and language clubs, and much more that Jinwoo honestly couldn’t remember. They hardly saw each other except for a half hour or so each night of overlapping schedules, when Jinwoo would just be getting home from work and Dongmin would just be getting ready for bed. On those nights they would drink tea and tell each other about their days in hushed voices to avoid waking their grumpy neighbor through the paper thin walls. Usually, Dongmin liked to help Jinwoo come up with crazy backstories to Sweater Guy’s life, and Jinwoo usually listened to Dongmin’s complaints about particularly lazy student council members or stuck up project partners. On Saturdays, they would watch their reality shows together or go into town if they had any ounce of energy left, but aside from those times, they passed by each other.

Lately, Dongmin had rarely been home at all due to his obligations in the theater and in biology tutoring, which included many late night rehearsals and frequent study sessions. Most of the time when Dongmin was so busy, Jinwoo favored going into town after work instead of arriving at the cold and empty apartment. Usually, it was to get dinner, as Jinwoo did not have Dongmin’s culinary skills or a real desire to burn down their kitchen.

Tonight was exceptionally boring, and Jinwoo barely made it through his shift. A new superhero movie had hit the Cineplex, which meant it would be a miracle if Jinwoo sold even one ticket to tonight’s showing of ‘Einstein and Spacetime’. After he finally clocked out, he began a slow trek toward his apartment. For the time of year, it was surprisingly chilly outside. It wasn’t quite autumn yet, but the chill in the air seemed to signal that it was just around the corner. Jinwoo’s thin work uniform did little to keep the cold from seeping into his bones. He hadn’t had much of an appetite the past few days, and tonight was no exception. He felt cold and tired as he searched the streets for anything still open and serving something warm. He stopped short in front of a small diner. Normally he ignored this place because he hardly ever saw a soul inside, but cheap coffee seemed perfect right now. He pushed the door in, sounding a small bell attached to the top as he entered.

It was a small restaurant, the kind that sat under a few stories of what seemed to be offices or apartments. The linoleum floors were scuffed and scratched, and the booths were in even worse condition. Nothing inside the place seemed to be made after 1960, people included. There was a big glass case up front with pastries and candy, and a small bar with stools that seemed to have once served as a soda bar. There was an old jukebox near the back wall, but speakers on the ceiling played the old 50’s classics, and every other wall was covered in old garage sale treasures. Jinwoo walked in and sat at a small two-person booth by the window. The table was sticky with syrup and had many years worth of carvings on the surface. He studied the carvings for a bit, the initials in hearts, the drawings, the different names with ‘was here’ trailing after. He couldn’t help but think about how many friends and couples sat in this booth, and how pathetic he must look just staring at the table like an idiot by himself so late at night. Eventually, he looked up at the menu board above the front counter, but it was obstructed by a familiar sweater.

“What can I get you?” The voice was melodic and soothing. Jinwoo looked up from the sweater to find big, round glasses and a soft smile. It was Sweater Guy, he was sure of it. His heart jumped into his throat as he desperately tried to find his rehearsed two-word order that completely escaped him.

“Coffee, please,” Jinwoo rushed, and Sweater Guy seemed to pause for a minute as if trying to remember something. He rolled his pen back and forth between two fingers as he stared at Jinwoo thoughtfully.

“You sell the tickets at the mall, yeah?” he asked with a small smile, ending his question with a tilt of his head, and Jinwoo felt like he was in a tunnel.

“You drink a lot of tea.” The words left Jinwoo’s mouth before he could stop them, and he didn’t even realize he’d actually said them until he heard sweet laughter bubble up from Sweater Guy’s chest. The room was spinning.

“Ah, I knew it was you. I’ll go get you that coffee.” The boy smiled and Jinwoo could only nod in response, hoping that he didn’t look too flustered under the bright, fluorescent lighting.

***

 

“You’re kidding me, right?” Dongmin froze and looked at his friend in shock, his tea sloshing in his novelty mug. “He was actually there?”

“He sounded very different from what I thought he would sound like.” Jinwoo could feel himself begin to blush, and began looking around the room. It was nearly morning now, but Dongmin and Jinwoo had decided to catch up for a few minutes before bed.

“What was his name?” Dongmin asked excitedly, prompting a loud smack against the wall from their grumpy neighbor. Jinwoo sat up quickly from his position on the couch to face his friend.

“I honestly didn’t even look for a nametag. I was too embarrassed. He probably thinks I’m an idiot.” Jinwoo hid his face in his hands.

“He probably does, so he can join the club.” Dongmin laughed slightly and Jinwoo glared at him. Dongmin reached over to shut off the lamp, walking to the bedroom with tea in hand. Jinwoo rolled his eyes and followed not too far behind him, laying down in his own bed and thinking of more things he wanted to know about Sweater Guy until he drifted off to sleep.

***  
Jinwoo never understood why Sweater Guy chose Sundays to go to the planetarium (not even the theater, which would be a little less supremely boring). Half the stores in the mall were closed—not that he visited them anyway—and the planetarium theater only showed projections of stars you could watch for free. Of all the times to go to the planetarium, Sunday was the most pointless, and Jinwoo wanted to know why.

Today when Sweater Guy walked up to the coffee cart, Jinwoo couldn’t seem to look at anybody else, and just stared in fascination at a scenario he’d seen every Sunday for the past year. He could hear his voice in his head, the way it looped around words like a song and how everything sounded as sweet as the honey he put in his tea. He watched the girls at the cart flirt with him, and Sweater Guy stayed quiet as usual. He carried his tea to a small bench, and as he passed he looked right at Jinwoo and smiled. Jinwoo felt his heart flip. This time he actively tried not to watch sweater guy, and instead busied himself with organizing the tickets counter which really didn’t need organizing. This time, when he looked up at sweater guy for a brief second, behind the mess of paper he’d made, he saw a pair of eyes staring right back.

 

***  
The next night, Jinwoo found himself walking straight toward the diner after work, bypassing every other eating establishment. He wrapped his jacket around himself and made a slow walk to the old building, enjoying a bit of quiet on the street. The open sign inside the window illuminated the sidewalk, turning everything calm shade of purple. Jinwoo pushed the door in and heard the bell go off again.

He sat at a booth that was surprisingly not sticky (covered in salt, but Jinwoo figured it the lesser of two evils). Jinwoo passed the time by watching Sweater Guy serve another table -- a family with quite a few children -- watching how animated he was with them. Another flood of questions rushed to the forefront of Jinwoo’s mind, and he almost completely forgot that he was waiting to order.

“Hey! What can I get you today?” The sweet voice Jinwoo had been imagining for the past 20 or so hours interrupted his thoughts. He looked up at Sweater Guy and took in his smile, kind and patient.

“I guess I’ll have a coffee again.” Jinwoo quickly stared down at his hands, and Sweater Guy laughed, readjusting the pen behind his ear. Jinwoo’s head was spinning.

“You drink a lot of coffee.” Jinwoo was embarrassed, but he couldn’t help the giggle that escaped his lips. He looked up and smiled. He wanted to say something funny or witty, but he couldn’t open his mouth. He couldn’t move, not when sweater guy was smiling so brightly down at him, because what makes him so happy? and how many cities could he light up with just his smile?

Jinwoo sipped his coffee slowly, secretly relishing every time Sweater Guy, who’s name he’d learned was Myungjun, came over to fill his mug to the top. The coffee itself wasn’t all that great, but he didn’t notice it much. His attention was on Myungjun.

After Jinwoo had returned to the apartment and relayed his story to Dongmin, he decided to ignore Dongmin’s sudden revelation that Jinwoo liked Myungjun because he most definitely did not like him (but also yeah what’s new the sky is blue and water is wet.)

“I mean, I just hope you don’t die from all the diner coffee you’re drinking. It can’t be good for you.” Dongmin said before turning out the bedroom light. Jinwoo just huffed and turned over in his bed. He went to sleep with Myungjun’s whispered name on his lips.  
***  
Jinwoo went to the diner every night that week and the next. He always ordered from the specials, which he would ask Myungjun about even if they were written on the board. The food, like the coffee, wasn’t particularly great, but Jinwoo loved seeing Myungjun each night. There was never more than two other tables occupied whenever he went in, and Jinwoo liked the peace and quiet (except, of course, for the crooning of whatever band or singer was coming from the overhead speakers, and the occasional shout from the cook).

The next Sunday, when Myungjun went to the planetarium, he said hello to Jinwoo in passing to his usual bench. Jinwoo could only smile back, his heart beating a mile a minute.

***  
It was 2 am, surely the latest Jinwoo -- or probably anyone -- had ever gone to that diner. Tonight was the first night in the past 2 weeks he hadn’t stopped in directly after his shift. His course work had been especially grueling, and along with working all week, he’d been completely exhausted. He’d gone home to sleep after work but found that sleep wasn’t so easily achieved, even as tired as he was. Jinwoo felt that coffee (Myungjun) was more needed than sleep, and he really wanted to go to the diner for coffee (Myungjun), so he rolled out of bed and barely remembered to put on pants and shoes before walking out the door.

He looked inside the large window to find nobody inside the diner except Myungjun, mopping the floor and dancing wildly to whatever Elvis song was playing. Jinwoo stood at the door for a minute just watching Myungjun through the glass, a smile cracking onto his face. He was enthralled by everything the boy did, every spin and jump making him laugh and lean forward a bit more. Eventually, Jinwoo leaned forward a bit too far and opened the door, tripping inside as the bell sounded, startling Myungjun out of his performance. Myungjun quickly rested the mop against the wall and disappeared into the kitchen, his face burning red. Jinwoo was embarrassed himself, but he laughed it off once he saw Myungjun appear again with a half full coffee pot, the drink sloshing in the glass container as he walked over to the small booth Jinwoo had sat down in.

“I was beginning to think you weren’t going to stop by at all tonight!” he joked, and Jinwoo laughed. Myungjun filled Jinwoo’s mug with coffee, and Jinwoo watched his hands as he did so.

“Just wanted some coffee.” Jinwoo motioned to the steaming mug and Myungjun rolled his eyes and scoffed. He wiped his hands on the apron around his waist and stood for a few seconds, looking at Jinwoo, before he turned around to walk back to the mop and bucket he’d abandoned in the corner.

“There’s nobody here. Would you like to maybe chat?” Jinwoo asked, his heart slamming against his chest with a force so strong he could be the bass drum for a symphony. Myungjun looked shocked, but smiled and nodded, sitting down across the table from Jinwoo and filling up a mug of coffee for himself. Myungjun’s presence across the booth made him feel warmer than any cheap mug of diner coffee ever could.

“You’re Jinwoo, right?” he asked as he settled into his seat. Jinwoo quickly felt his chest to check for his employee badge -- which he normally wore in after his shift -- and was delighted when he realized he wasn’t wearing it.

“I’m Jinwoo! You must see me at work a lot.” Jinwoo could already feel his face starting to burn again. He nervously wrapped his hands around his coffee cup, and they started to burn, too.

“I do, actually.” Myungjun laughed as he stirred a packet of creamer and 2 sugars into his coffee. Jinwoo watched with fascination as his own black coffee sat untouched in the ceramic mug between his hands.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why do you show up so often?” Jinwoo asked, looking at a picture just beyond Myungjun’s head.

“I like to watch the stars. It’s relaxing,” he answered, sipping his coffee, his glasses fogging up from the steam. He put the mug down hastily.

“Oh.” Jinwoo couldn’t make himself say much more. He supposed the answer was simple enough. He immediately came up with more questions, but he tried his best to save up all of his good ones instead of interrogating the tired waiter, even if he was slightly irritated that he couldn’t ask everything at once.

“Well, can I ask why you’re still coming here?” Myungjun broke Jinwoo from his thoughts. Jinwoo smiled and looked down at his hands. He wasn’t sure what to answer at this point, but every bone in his body was screaming the truth: you.

“It’s definitely the coffee, best I’ve ever had,” Jinwoo replied, sarcasm dripping from his voice. This earned a laugh from Myungjun, and Jinwoo couldn’t help the feeling of pride that washed over him.

“Hey, I make the coffee!” Myungjun tried to act offended, and Jinwoo gave him a dramatic look of pity. They dissolved into laughter again before Myungjun continued the conversation.

“What else do you do other than drink my crappy coffee, Jinwoo?” Myungjun asked, dragging out Jinwoo’s name with fondness.

“I’m a student at the university,” Jinwoo replied, seeming to mull over his words carefully.

“What do you study?” Myungjun looked at Jinwoo with a genuine glean of curiosity in his eyes bright enough to match the shine of the lights on the lenses of his glasses. He smiled widely and his cheeks pushed the frames up slightly.

“I’ve switched my major two times already. I’m currently in marketing.” Jinwoo answered, almost feeling embarrassed. He took a big gulp of his coffee. It scalded as it went down.

“Marketing sounds great, though!” Myungjun sounded genuinely interested and Jinwoo secretly hoped he wouldn’t ask any questions.

“And you, what do you do?” Jinwoo shifted the question and relaxed once again in his seat.

“I’m an artist.” Myungjun’s hands were wrapped around his own coffee cup, his fingers poking out of the sleeves of his sweater. “I paint mostly, but I do pastels for fun.”

Jinwoo smiled lightly, imagining Myungjun with a brush in hand, paint staining the tips of his fingers and the sleeves of his sweater as he poured every ounce of concentration into the curvature of a smile or vastness of a canyon.

They talked for hours until they could see the signs of the sky beginning to lighten. Jinwoo had learned that Myungjun was born in a rural part of Korea, and had moved to the States when he was only in the first or second grade. He had a barely-there accent that Jinwoo would have hardly picked up on if he was anything except Korean, and when he could hear it, his heart would flutter. Jinwoo himself could hardly speak a word of Korean (much to Dongmin’s displeasure) but he could understand quite a bit, and Myungjun found it entertaining to test his understanding. They talked about their family traditions and everything they had in common, and everything that was different. They’d talked about their favorite Korean dishes their moms prepared, their favorite American foods, and every other food in between (including the selection of cold appetizers the cook brought out to them at some point after 4 am). They talked about how Myungjun missed the stars in Korea, and how Jinwoo wanted to visit and the things he’d want to see if he did.

Jinwoo began compiling a list in his head, this time not of unanswered questions, but of facts about Myungjun that he never wanted to forget.

He joked around a lot as a child  
He used to raise animals with his family  
He actually likes working the night shift  
He wanted to open an art studio in high school  
He loves to sing  
He gets cold often  
He likes independent movies  
He wanted to visit Ireland when he was younger

Jinwoo’s list could go on. He still burned inside with a thousand deeper questions he wanted to know, but there wasn’t much about this boy that he didn’t feel like documenting for historians in the distant future. If it wasn’t so late—or rather, early—Jinwoo would rush to his apartment to tell Dongmin everything immediately, but right now he was content to watch the sleepy looking boy that sat across from him.

“I should probably go,” Jinwoo said after a few moments of comfortable silence. He most certainly did not want to go. In fact, he’d had given anything for just a few more minutes in this dump of a cafe, but he could hear Dongmin’s voice inside his head already lecturing him about just where the hell he was at and without even a text message. He knew Myungjun’s shift would be over soon, so he smiled at the boy and stood up. He was almost towards the door when his mouth decided to open without his permission again.

“Hey.. There’s this play going on tomorrow at the university… Or, tonight, I guess… I have an extra ticket… would you maybe want to come with me?” His heart was again trying to break free from his chest. His hand was on the door already and if he had half a mind he would have bolted.

“Like a date?” Myungjun raised his eyebrows and giggled. Jinwoo’s face turned bright red.

“No, no! Like… You were talking about how much you liked plays and Dongmin cancelled on me so I thought maybe you’d…like…A platonic friend thing..” Jinwoo continued to babble until he could get enough control of his mouth to shut it.

“Yes, Jinwoo. I would love to go on a platonic friend thing with you.” Myungjun laughed and stood up, walking back towards the mop, which had long since fallen over on its side. Jinwoo’s face was still burning as he waved to Myungjun and mumbled something along the lines of “meet you there at 7” before he hurled the door open and ran out into the cool air.

***  
As expected, the feeling of guilt crashed down on Jinwoo as he opened the apartment door. Dongmin sat half asleep in the recliner with the lamp on, like an angry parent waiting for their child to return home from a party. He could feel the rapidly approaching lecture hanging in the air. Jinwoo tried to sneak past carefully, tiptoeing on socked feet across the hardwood floors, which he then slipped on and crashed loud enough to wake up Dongmin and their grumpy neighbor simultaneously.

“Where were you? I tried calling you eight times!” Dongmin's voice was steady and stern, but Jinwoo could sense the forced control behind it. The evidence of his tiredness only showed through the dark circles under his eyes. Jinwoo immediately felt guilty, seeing how worried his friend looked, and how extra stressed he seemed.

“I am so sorry. I lost track of time talking to Myungjun.” Jinwoo looked at Dongmin somewhat pathetically from where he was still sprawled out on the floor from where he’d fallen. Dongmin softened.

“I mean, I’m not your mom I guess. But really, next time leave a note or something.” Dongmin stood up from the recliner and crossed the gap between them to pull Jinwoo up off the floor. Jinwoo nodded, internally sighing with relief when he saw the hints of a smile tugging at the corners of Dongmin’s lips a few moments later.

Jinwoo went back into the kitchen to get a glass of water. He smiled to himself, remembering Myungjun sitting across from him less than an hour ago. He smiled even wider when he realized that Myungjun was probably dancing wildly to Elvis again.

“You so like him,” Dongmin observed, and Jinwoo quickly snapped his head up, defending himself.

“I just had a nice night, that’s all.” He shrugged, walking to the room with his water. Dongmin followed close behind.

“You smiled at that glass of water for 3 minutes and I  
you.” Dongmin laughed, and Jinwoo rolled his eyes. Dongmin crawled under his bed covers, continuing to tease Jinwoo.

Jinwoo, being as exhausted as he was, just removed his jacket and laid on top of his blankets.

“Shut up,” he responded a bit coldly as Dongmin turned out the light. After a few seconds, he flipped over to face the wall and closed his eyes.

“He’s kind of perfect,” he finally replied, breaking the silence. Dongmin let out a soft laugh and they both drifted off.

***  
When Jinwoo finally woke, he could tell by the sun that it was late afternoon, and Dongmin had probably left hours ago. Jinwoo, of course, found himself under several blankets that he hadn’t fallen asleep with. He swung his legs over the edge of his bed and sat for a minute, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. He then shuffled to the kitchen for any type of food they had on hand (which usually wasn’t much), the blankets wrapped around his shoulders like a cape.

He was able to find himself half a jumbo muffin and some leftover green juice of sorts that Dongmin swore he needed in his diet. He made himself some coffee (to which he was surprised with how bland coffee now tasted when Myungjun didn’t serve it to him). Sitting in the recliner with his small breakfast, he looked out the window and went over his tasks for the day.

He had to start an outline for his speech class, maybe get a bit ahead on his reading. He definitely had to do some laundry today, and then, of course, the play—oh God, he’d invited Myungjun, hadn’t he?

Jinwoo stood up from the recliner quickly, leaving the furniture swinging back and forth wildly behind him. He went back to the bedroom and checked his phone. He had less than 3 hours, along with a missed message from Dongmin.

dongmin 1 hour ago  
hey. u awake yet? I think  
I am going to the play  
tonight, tutoring cancelled  
:( . I hope you still  
have my ticket.

Jinwoo internally panicked. He’d forgotten to mention that he’d invited Myungjun. He wasn’t going to cancel on Myungjun for Dongmin, but he didn’t want to ditch his best friend. He sighed and set his phone down, focusing instead on his now urgent to-do list. He downed his green juice and ran downstairs wildly with a pile of laundry and quarters jingling in a plastic bag. He sat in the laundry room, perched on top of an empty dryer, as he worked on his outline and waited for his clothes to finish. Each passing minute he got increasingly more nervous, and wrestled with the idea of texting Dongmin to let him know about Myungjun coming along, but decided against it several times. When his laundry was finally done, he ran back up the stairs and chucked the clean pile onto his bed, trying on too many different outfits for the amount of time he had. He could only seem to focus on the fact that Myungjun would be there. Dongmin’s unfortunate change of plans sat at the very back of his mind.

The walk to the theater was normal and uneventful, except for the feeling gnawing at Jinwoo’s stomach. He couldn’t tell if he was sick or if he had butterflies, or something in between, like sick butterflies. He continued to walk, staring at his feet in new shoes he’d only worn once before tonight. The sun was beginning to set earlier these days, and perhaps Jinwoo would have recognized how beautiful the walk was if he hadn’t been so focused on the mint socks he’d worn just for Myungjun, and wondering if he would notice. He started to count the bricks as he walked, alternating in between English and what little Korean he could remember, thinking about the way Myungjun would say Korean words under his breath.

Jinwoo had arrived precisely 15 minutes early, but he still had not beat Myungjun. When Jinwoo looked up from the two hundred and thirteenth brick (he might not have counted exactly), Myungjun was waiting by the fountain in a long brown coat and a new, red orange sweater that matched the color of the sun setting behind him. He stood there with his hands in his pockets, then began waving excitedly to Jinwoo when he saw him. Jinwoo’s stomach felt like it might actually jump out of his body, along with his heart and any other organ that wanted to join the party.

“Hey,” Jinwoo said as he crossed the rest of the bricks to Myungjun. His mouth gaped open for a moment or two, as if he was going to say something else, then he closed it abruptly. Myungjun laughed brightly and tapped Jinwoo’s arm with his hand softly.

“Hi,” he replied, and Jinwoo looked up to meet his eyes. Even the night before at the diner, Jinwoo hadn’t really noticed Myungjun’s eyes like he was right now, and he felt like he was in a romance novel. He wanted to know the exact color of Myungjun’s eyes and he wanted to paint his entire apartment with it. He felt like he could melt, even in this cold weather and—

“Hey! You never texted me back!” Jinwoo quickly took a half step away from Myungjun as Dongmin flung his arm around Jinwoo’s neck.

“Oh, uh. Sorry,” he replied and awkwardly gave Dongmin a side hug of sorts by leaning into his side. Dongmin laughed and moved his arm, saying something Jinwoo couldn’t hear very well because everything was fuzzy and he wanted to go back to moments before when he was close enough to feel Myungjun’s breath on his face.

“Jinwoo… Are you going to introduce me?,” Jinwoo looked at Dongmin. Everything sounded like he’d just come up from underwater. He looked at both of them for a moment before snapping back into reality.

“Right! My bad. This is Dongmin, my old friend from middle school,” Jinwoo motioned to Dongmin, and Myungjun nodded cordially, adding in a comment about hearing so much about him from Jinwoo. “And, Dongmin, this is my friend Myungjun.” Myungjun beamed when Jinwoo introduced him, and Dongmin’s eyes lit up.

“Oh! So  
Myungjun! I’ve heard a lot about you too!” Jinwoo’s foot found it’s way over to Dongmin’s, landing with force. Dongmin coughed to cover up his pain. Jinwoo smiled and handed Dongmin a five dollar bill he’d shoved in his pocket just before he’d left, to buy a new ticket. They began walking to the building, and Dongmin walked to Myungjun’s other side, desperately trying not to limp.

Jinwoo sat in between Dongmin and Myungjun, and tried to make small conversation between the two. Myungjun was caught up in an exciting explanation about the differences in types of paint, and Jinwoo had honestly never cared more about paint in his entire life. Every once in awhile, Dongmin would ask Jinwoo a question, and almost every time Jinwoo would ask him to repeat himself. Dongmin would occasionally make a remark that required a subtle pinch on the arm from Jinwoo, and both of them were relieved when the lights finally went down.

Throughout the play, Jinwoo struggled to watch the stage. He kept an ear out for anything important, but his attention was mostly focused on Myungjun. If anyone were to ask him what the play was about, he would have absolutely no clue. He was much more interested in the curve of Myungjun’s profile, or the way the lights of the stage reflected off his glasses, or how close their hands had inched together on the arm rest.

After the play, Dongmin and Myungjun talked excitedly about the acting and the plot, and Jinwoo simply agreed with everything they had said as if he’d actually watched any of it. The three of them chatted awhile before Dongmin told Jinwoo that he was going to go home early because he didn’t feel well (along with him trying to subtly wink at Jinwoo and blinking a few times instead, prompting Myungjun to ask if his eyes were okay, to Jinwoo’s embarrassment).

Jinwoo was at a loss. He wasn’t sure exactly what to do, since this was of course  
and most definitely not a date. He tried to think about what he would do if it were Dongmin instead of Myungjun. He figured that after an outing like this he and Dongmin usually went home, so he offered to walk Myungjun back to his apartment. Internally, his stomach and brain were waging war against each other. His stomach was in much need of a break from the acrobatic flipping, but his brain knew he was being utterly stupid.

The walk to the apartment building was comfortable. They stood close to each other, their arms brushing together occasionally. Jinwoo felt warm despite the cold air in his lungs. He and Myungjun picked up from their previous conversation, talking again about everything and nothing. They discussed Jinwoo’s ambitions in life (or lack thereof) and Myungjun’s favorite things about a small town in Wyoming he visited once. They ended at a small place only a block or so from Jinwoo’s own. It was a much smaller, more hole-in-the-wall type building, but if Myungjun lived there then Jinwoo adored it.

“Thank you for coming with me. It was fun.” Jinwoo turned to face Myungjun, and Myungjun smiled softly. It was completely dark out now, but Jinwoo could still see Myungjun’s eyes shining perfectly.

“Thanks for the invitation.” The reply was quiet and Jinwoo’s heart was fluttering. He had to mentally remind himself that there was absolutely nothing remotely romantic about this, even if he could hear the stupid indie music playing in his head and felt that kissing Myungjun’s cheek would be the perfect addition to this scene. He stood still.

“Do you want some coffee?” Myungjun suddenly blurted out after a few seconds of silence, catching Jinwoo by surprise. Jinwoo looked up, his mouth gaping before he smiled.

“I mean, it’s not that late. If you wanted to, I could make you some coffee, or something.” Myungjun rushed to correct himself as he tugged at the hem of his coat sleeve. Jinwoo nodded and Myungjun’s face broke out into a large smile as he practically pulled Jinwoo into the building.

Jinwoo was surprised with just how small Myungjun’s apartment really was. Even with its outward appearance, he hadn’t expected it to be quite so cramped. It was a single room, with a small kitchen, and a bathroom barely big enough for one. There was a small lumpy couch, and a lopsided coffee table in front, adjusted with magazines under the shortest leg. Myungjun’s bed sat at the far end of the room, just the mattress and bedding, next to a small bedside table that was taller than the bed itself. The kitchen had two mismatched dining room chairs next to a small table folded out from the wall. There was a small rack of drying dishes, not in a matching set, taking up most of the only available counter space, and the light hanging down from the ceiling flickered like a flame.

Even so, Jinwoo found the place more charming than pathetic. The place was clean, and it smelled like honey and green tea—just like Myungjun. The whole place seemed to have his personal charm in every corner. All his clothes, including his sweaters, were hung on a rack by his bed. Several old keepsakes and some art supplies sat on an old bookshelf, and the walls housed beautiful paintings bearing what he was sure was Myungjun’s signature. It was warm and cozy, and the soft, flickering light from the kitchen and the sound of Myungjun preparing coffee made Jinwoo never want to leave.

 

They talked even more about nothing, drinking coffee from mugs clearly stolen from the diner. Jinwoo now loved talking nothing with Myungjun. He loved hearing about different styles of art, or about Myungjun’s favorite holiday memories or any other thing that made him smile so much that all of the stars condensed into his eyes, anything that made him laugh so hard that he reached a hand out to Jinwoo to steady himself. He listened and memorized everything—the stories being told, the way Myungjun’s eyebrows would move up when his voice got louder, how he moved his hands softly when he spoke. It was like every word Myungjun said was a glimmer of sunlight or a drop of rain, and Jinwoo was a plant, soaking everything up. He liked spending time with Myungjun. He liked Myungjun.

***

 

During the next few weeks, Jinwoo found himself over at Myungjun’s apartment constantly, in between shifts and classes. Sometimes, if they were both free during the day, Jinwoo would study his class material and Myungjun would work on a project. Even if they didn’t talk much, it was always comfortable. Jinwoo hardly spent any time at his own apartment except to sleep. He still visited Myungjun every night at the diner, and Myungjun started visiting the mall on more than just Sundays. On evenings where neither of them worked (which were few and far between), they would cook something together or watch movies for hours or play board games and drink together. Jinwoo would perhaps always have a desire to know more about Myungjun or to be closer to him, but for now, he was incredibly happy.

“You’ve certainly been hanging out with Myungjun a lot lately,” Dongmin observed one Saturday night when their reality show began to bore them. They both sat on the couch, legs tangled in the middle, the only light in the room coming from their small television set.

“I guess so.” Jinwoo nodded. Even now, his fingers were stained with paint and he could taste the garlic from the bread they’d made earlier that evening before Myungjun left to work the night shift. A smile spread across his face.

“I’m sure he likes you back.” Dongmin turned his face just a fraction of a degree, looking at Jinwoo out of the corner of his eye, still facing the TV.

“Who likes who? I’m not jumping to any conclusions, Dongmin.” Jinwoo sat up straight, but kept his eyes on the screen.

“Don’t torture yourself just because you’re unsure.” Dongmin carefully delivered his next reply, and Jinwoo turned his face to Dongmin.

“That’s pretty sound advice. How’s Bin?” Dongmin now faced Jinwoo completely, his mouth gaping. Jinwoo smiled and turned back to the television, and they watched in silence for the rest of the night.

***  
It was quite chilly out, and Myungjun and Jinwoo sat wrapped in a blanket on Jinwoo’s couch, watching a movie. It was one of Myungjun’s favorites that he’d seen a thousand times. Jinwoo loved to watch him mouth along with the words, and he secretly loved it when Myungjun would pause to explain what was happening or give behind-the-scenes information (even if he pretended to be incredibly annoyed by it).  
Dongmin sat just a few feet away on the recliner (and he actually was incredibly annoyed by Myungjun’s commentary).

Jinwoo and Myungjun sat side by side under the blanket, but Dongmin watched them like a hawk each time one of them moved. They were much closer together than they were at the start of the show, and Dongmin kept giving subtle looks to Jinwoo, which earned him glares in return.

Sometime during the middle of the show Myungjun finally stopped making commentary, and Dongmin seemed visibly less tense. Jinwoo found it funny to try and egg Myungjun on, and ask for commentary just to watch Dongmin lose his mind. Jinwoo had to admit, he paid a little more attention to this movie that the one they’d watched right before it, simply because it was Myungjun’s favorite.

Jinwoo sat with both his hands flat on the couch cushion underneath the blanket. His position was almost hilariously stiff because any time he moved his head or his arm, Dongmin would look over and wiggle his eyebrows. He felt like a middle schooler who had brought home a date to watch a movie with his parents.

Except for the fact that this was  
a date. (And even if it could have been, it would have certainly been better sans Dongmin who had eyes in the back of his head).

This was definitely not a date, Jinwoo kept thinking repeatedly. Definitely not a date. And Myungjun definitely didn’t feel that way about him. Even though Jinwoo could now notice that Myungjun had laced their fingers together. Jinwoo put on a blank expression and looked out of the corner of his eye at the boy next to him, who was completely engrossed in the movie and still holding his hand softly. Jinwoo smiled and looked back to the screen, taking in every detail of Myungjun’s favorite movie.

***

 

“You know,” Myungjun said as he sat down in the booth across from Jinwoo “We should go on another one of those platonic friend things.” He poured himself a cup of coffee as his eyes darted around the empty restaurant.

“You mean, hang out? We do that all the time, don’t we?” Jinwoo was now much more aware of how close his foot was to Myungjun’s. He swallowed thickly and his heart began to race again.

“I meant hang out in public. Unless you’re embarrassed by me.” Myungjun raised an eyebrow and looked at Jinwoo, stirring a monstrosity of sugar and cream into his coffee.

“No, of course not!” Jinwoo quickly corrected himself. His face began to burn. He gulped down his coffee to avoid having to say anything else.

“Okay, good. Then let’s go somewhere tomorrow. Pick me up at 7.” Myungjun took a gulp of his coffee, then stood up and walked to the next table back, wiping it down while singing along to the ‘jukebox’.

“Where do you want to go?” Jinwoo asked, turning his head behind him slightly.

“Surprise me.” Myungjun patted Jinwoo’s shoulder and walked back into the kitchen.

Jinwoo walked back to his apartment in the snow, his head racing with a million thoughts.

It wasn’t meant to be a date, was it? If it was, and Jinwoo picked something too casual, would Myungjun be insulted? If it wasn’t, and Jinwoo did something too romantic, would Myungjun be uncomfortable? Jinwoo felt like he was defusing a bomb.

Less than 24 hours later, he found himself sitting next to Myungjun in the same side of a booth at a crowded TGI Fridays, sipping on his second Coors of the night.

Everything started out normal, but seemed to get more intimate as time went on, and Jinwoo took notice of everything as Dongmin’s voice echoed in his head. For almost an entire half hour, Myungjun’s hand rested on Jinwoo’s thigh as he told him a not-so-brief family history. He leaned in too close to say the most mundane things, and he did it often. They both happily shared their meals with each other, and a slice of cake afterward, the obnoxious laughter getting exponentially louder as the number of empty beer bottles increased.

When the waitress exclaimed that they were the cutest couple she’d ever seen, and Myungjun happily replied ‘thank you’, Jinwoo thought he was going to have a heart attack. He quickly choked out a barely understandable “he’s not my boyfriend” as the waitress awkwardly and silently left the check on the table and left.

The rest of the dinner passed normally, but Jinwoo couldn’t help but notice Myungjun’s actions even more. Every smile or laugh, every time Myungjun leaned in close enough that Jinwoo could feel his breath on his neck, Jinwoo’s heart sped up and the idea of living the rest of his life with the smell of green tea and turpentine in his nose seemed all the more appealing.

The walk back to Myungjun’s apartment from the bus stop was almost serene. The snow was falling in thick, soft blankets, but the alcohol coursing through both their bodies kept them as warm as an August day. Myungjun held Jinwoo’s hand softly in his own, as he sang a Korean song down the empty streets. The melody echoed and bounced from building to building, filling the air with sounds Jinwoo only wished he could play on repeat. The whole world seemed to have turned off, and Jinwoo could only hear Myungjun’s voice, and see the snowflakes on his eyelashes, and feel the warmth of his hand.

When they reached the doorstep of Myungjun’s apartment, Jinwoo wanted to keep walking. He wanted to keep walking and hear Myungjun sing a thousand songs and have Myungjun hold his hands a thousand times. He wished he could be near Myungjun all the time instead of just seeing him during a few fleeting hours of the day.

They stood at the doorstep for what felt like hours, Jinwoo smiling softly at the boy he’d come to grow so incredibly fond of. Myungjun stared for a moment, before sweetly pressing a kiss to Jinwoo’s cheek and walking inside the building quickly, like a child who’d just kissed their crush in the schoolyard. Jinwoo froze. He wasn’t sure exactly how to react, so he just stared after the boy in mild confusion and total adoration. He stood outside and waited to see the apartment light turn on before he continued walking home, humming Myungjun’s song to himself.

***  
Jinwoo had just finished getting ready for bed when his phone rang with a message, breaking the silence of the dark and empty apartment. The grumpy neighbor hit the wall a few times and cursed, and Jinwoo couldn’t help but wonder if they actually ever slept, or if they were just noise patrol.

He suspected the message was from Dongmin, once again reminding him that he was going to be out for a while. Jinwoo figured Dongmin was trying to prove a point by sending hoards of passive aggressive texts, letting him know how thoughtful and considerate it is to let your roommate know when you’ll be out all hours. His efforts were duly noted.

Jinwoo crawled into bed and checked his phone once more, sending a quick goodnight to Dongmin and Myungjun. It had been weeks since the last platonic friend thing, and everything since had been completely normal, but Jinwoo couldn’t stop thinking about Myungjun’s soft lips on his cheek. He couldn’t help but think that maybe Dongmin was right, and that Myungjun definitely liked him. Or, more accurately, that Jinwoo knew all along that Myungjun liked him but had been too stupid to do anything about it.

He tossed and turned for a bit before resolving to do something about his feelings, at some point. Just not right now. Or for a while.

He fell asleep with his fingers pressed to his cheek.

***  
The following Sunday was freezing cold and snowing in sheets, but Myungjun still made his way to Jinwoo’s work. He walked in, bundled up with a scarf over his ears and mouth, covered in snowflakes, and Jinwoo couldn’t stop the smile that broke onto his face. Jinwoo watched Myungjun quietly as he ordered his usual tea, and handed over his change with a mitten-clad hand. When he walked over to the ticket counter to say hello, Jinwoo grabbed his hands and held on for much longer than was socially acceptable. The girls at the coffee cart had never looked more genuinely upset with Jinwoo, not even when he told their boss they’d been stealing the caramel sauce. He felt a little bit gratified (he felt gratified about the caramel, too.)

Jinwoo smiled and tugged Myungjun’s scarf down, revealing his rosy pink cheeks. He leaned in a bit too close and pulled Myungjun even closer. 

“It’s a bit cold out there, huh?” Jinwoo tilted his head to the side, one hand still pulling Myungjun forward by his scarf, the other hand resting on Myungjun’s on the counter. Myungjun looked flustered for about a half of a second before smiling. Jinwoo let go of his scarf and Myungjun pulled off a mitten using his teeth, his other hand still covered by Jinwoo’s.

“I was going to watch the stars for a bit, but I think I need to warm up first.” Myungjun quietly laughed and took a sip of his tea. He sat and drank for a moment before speaking again.

“I don’t work tonight, so I was thinking maybe I could wait for your shift to be over and we could hang out?” He smiled began to drink his tea again, enjoying the warmth.

“Yeah, I should be done by 7.” Jinwoo smiled, and Myungjun pushed his half-finished tea toward Jinwoo before walking toward the planetarium doors.

Jinwoo took a drink of the warm tea and began watching the clock. Sundays were always boring, and today was no exception, especially since most everybody was at home trying to keep warm. He couldn’t wait to clock out, and knowing Myungjun was just in the other room made him wish all the more that his shift of doing nothing was over. 

It had only been about 45 minutes before Jinwoo decided that he needed to see Myungjun again, so he grabbed a cleaning cart and went inside the planetarium without a second thought.

Jinwoo could hardly see where he was going, but every thirty seconds or so, the dome screen would flash just bright enough for him to see Myungjun’s silhouette in a chair. Eventually, he’d blindly felt his way over to the boy, accidentally putting a hand right into his hair and effectively waking him up from a light nap. Myungjun sat up quickly, his eyes straining to see in the dark.

“It’s okay, it’s just me,” Jinwoo said calmly as he precariously climbed over the reclined seat in front of him to sit next to Myungjun.

“What are you doing?” Myungjun’s voice held slight amusement.

“I was bored. Would rather hang out with you.” Jinwoo offered, smiling in vain. A comfortable moment of silence passed before Myungjun replied.

“I am the most fun.” Myungjun replied, reclining in his seat again. He nudged Jinwoo and pointed to the dome screen. Jinwoo reclined in his seat and stared up at the stars. He understood why Myungjun loved it in here. The stars shone so brightly, and if you stared at one fixed spot long enough, you felt like you were among the stars. Myungjun was already a star, shining so brightly above everybody else. Jinwoo smiled to himself, thinking about how the boy he adored the most was a complete stranger to him less than a year ago. He remembered how badly he had wanted to know the most mundane things about the boy, and how many answers he could now readily provide to anyone that asked a question about him. If somebody had told him six months earlier that he’d be sitting in the planetarium watching the stars with his favorite mystery customer, he would have thought that person was insane.

Another comfortable silence had passed, and Jinwoo had thought Myungjun had fallen asleep again, until he felt the other’s fingers lace in between his own. Jinwoo’s breathing hitched and he thought he had heard Myungjun laugh quietly.

They sat like that for minutes that felt like hours, before Myungjun abruptly tugged Jinwoo into an upright sitting position. Jinwoo stared ahead into the darkness, just barely being able to see Myungjun’s face in front of him as his eyes adjusted.

Within seconds, Myungjun’s soft lips were on Jinwoo’s, and just like that, Jinwoo had answered every important question he ever needed to ask about Myungjun. Jinwoo automatically brought his hands up, one resting on Myungjun’s shoulder, and the other roaming his chest, curling his fingers into the fabric of his sweater. It was the sweater he had gotten Myungjun for Christmas, he could tell by the pattern on the front. He smiled and leaned deeper into the kiss. All of his senses seemed to be taken up by Myungjun. He tasted like honey and his lips felt like velvet against Jinwoo’s own chapped lips. His hair, if possible, seemed even softer in this moment than it ever had before, and each muffled giggle from the older boy had Jinwoo reeling. He swung himself over the armrest of his own chair and onto Myungjun’s, hovering over the top of him before the chair reclined all the way and he tumbled from Myungjun’s lap to the floor with a loud flop.

It was completely silent for a moment before Myungjun’s hysterical laughter roared through the empty theater. Not long after, Jinwoo began to laugh too, still laying on the floor. They laughed until their stomachs hurt and tears fell down their cheeks.

“Jinwoo, do I still have to tell you I like you?” Myungjun struggled to catch his breath. He helped Jinwoo stand and dusted him off.

“I think that pretty much covered it,” Jinwoo swept a thumb across Myungjun’s lips, sounding breathless himself.

“Do I still have to tell you we’re probably already dating?” Myungjun sounded almost embarrassed, like everybody knew his shirt was inside out and backwards the entire day but nobody bothered to tell him.

“Dongmin has already reminded me several times,” Jinwoo rolled his eyes, and Myungjun bursted out into laughter again, grabbing onto Jinwoo’s arm.

“You know, Jinwoo? You’re not bad. I might want to start continuing dating you.” Myungjun teased, his smile becoming more dazzlingly bright once Jinwoo opened the theater door. The light flooding in revealed Myungjun’s red cheeks and pink lips and Jinwoo was almost sad that he was entirely blind throughout his entire first kiss with him. 

“We’re still on for that platonic friend thing after my shift today, right?” Jinwoo offered, reaching out to straighten the other’s glasses softly.

“It’s a date.” Myungjun winked, and Jinwoo pulled him in for another quick kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> when I originally wrote this, I was setting up for a part 2 for Bin and Dongmin. I don't know if I'll ever get around to it but I will make that a priority fic if you guys express some interest!


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